Indiscretion

by Hannah Fielding

  ‘Eugenia, my dear, I don’t think …’ Don Alonso began, but Alexandra interrupted.

  ‘It’s all right, Papá.’ Alexandra schooled her features as she turned to her stepmother. ‘If it’s the jewels that Grandmother gave me as a present today that you’re referring to—’

  ‘Present, is it?’ Doña Eugenia’s eyes narrowed. If Alonso’s wife had been simply cold before, now she made little attempt to disguise her dislike of her stepdaughter, whom she clearly felt had arrived for no other purpose but to usurp the favoured place that should have been Mercedes’. ‘And what would the Duquesa be doing giving the Gulinar jewels, her most prized family heirloom, to someone who’s only been here five minutes and is barely a de Falla?’

  The insult struck at Alexandra’s sensitivities. Still, she wanted to avoid a row, even though she could feel her temper simmering. Suddenly she felt sorry for her father. What could possibly have attracted him to such a woman? She was also rather disappointed in him. How could he sit there at the table, clearly wishing himself elsewhere, making no real attempt to silence his wife, not even for the sake of his own daughter?

  ‘It seems to me, Doña Eugenia, that I am no less a de Falla than yourself,’ she answered. ‘I didn’t marry into the family, after all, and half my blood comes from my father.’ She glanced at Don Alonso for a sign of some reaction.

  He took a weary breath. ‘Indeed it does, niña. Now, try the paella. I’m sure you won’t have had this back at home,’ he said with forced enthusiasm as José stood there, holding an appetizing dish of the saffron rice with all its delicious trimmings, waiting for Alexandra to help herself.

  But Eugenia ignored her husband’s attempt to change the subject, continuing to eye Alexandra contemptuously. ‘As we say in Spain, al árbol por el fruto es conocido, the tree is known by its fruit. Like mother, like daughter, I say.’

  Alexandra set her chin and looked her stepmother directly. ‘I take that as a compliment. Like me, my mother also found it difficult to tolerate discourtesy.’ She turned away to spoon some rice on to her plate. ‘Another failing of the English, perhaps.’ At this statement, she noticed Esmeralda gazing fixedly at her. The young woman seemed to be taking notice of Alexandra for the first time. The expression on her cousin’s beautiful pale face was one of surprise and a hint of admiration flickered in her eyes.

  Eugenia’s mouth narrowed to a thin slit and she was about to say something when Ramón chipped in.

  ‘We Spanish can be somewhat direct. You’ll find no shortage of it while you are at El Pavón.’

  Aware that her demeanour had become icy, Alexandra tried to relax and nodded at Ramón with a smile. She was not about to give her stepmother the satisfaction of seeing that she had got under her skin.

  ‘I think Alexandra will become used to our ways in time,’ offered Esmeralda. ‘And besides, she’s no caged bird. Luckily for her, she’s free to fly the nest whenever she pleases if we’re not to her liking.’ She turned smoky, sad eyes to Alexandra, searching her face with some curiosity as she spoke.

  Eugenia put down her fork and looked up sharply. ‘Anyone would think you were not satisfied with your own lot here, Esmeralda, the way you’re always disappearing off these days.’

  ‘Then I shall be careful to rattle my cage more loudly in future to make my presence known.’

  ‘Mind your step, Esmeralda.’

  ‘All I ever do is mind my step, Tía. Isn’t that what we all do here?’ She suddenly looked exasperated, as if something had momentarily broken through the remoteness she wore like a cloak.

  At that point Mercedes gave up her petulant silence, determined that her mission would not be ignored. ‘Oh, Esmeralda, don’t be so dramatic. Anyhow, we’re getting off the point. What about the Gulinar heirloom? Those jewels were to be mine, when I marry, weren’t they, Mamá?’

  ‘Si, querida,’ Eugenia answered her daughter, her gaze steady on Alexandra as she did so. ‘By rights, they should go to Mercedes and remain in the family, here on Spanish soil, to be passed down to generations of pure Spanish nobility, not carted back to England to be lost among whatever inferior baubles and trinkets you might possess.’

  Disconcerted, Alexandra bit down an angry response. Mercedes had made no mention that the jewels were promised to her during the angry tirade upstairs.

  Ramón gave a sugar-sweet smile. ‘Mercedes, surely you don’t need the Gulinar jewels to confirm that you’re a little princess. We all know that already.’

  ‘Very funny, Ramón,’ snapped Mercedes. ‘And I suppose you’re on her side, boasting about her secret costume for the ball, making it sound as if she’s going to be the best dressed there.’ Her voice became increasingly shrill, her cheeks reddening in frustration, making her appear even more like a painted figurine.

  ‘You exaggerate, as usual, Mercedes.’ Ramón took a piece of bread and broke it in two.

  ‘If Salvador were here, he’d be on my side.’

  ‘If Salvador were here, then the Duquesa would be too, most likely, and you wouldn’t be squeaking your complaint so loudly then,’ Ramón retorted. ‘Besides, what makes you so sure that you were to have the Gulinar jewels? How strange that our grandmother has never made that public knowledge.’

  ‘Not everything is public knowledge in this house,’ said Eugenia coldly.

  Ramón cocked an eyebrow. ‘How very true, Tía.’

  Alexandra felt Esmeralda shift uneasily in her chair.

  ‘The Duquesa and I have an understanding,’ Doña Eugenia continued. ‘I do not expect you to understand, Ramón. You don’t have the ear of the Duquesa, far from it. And you, my dear,’ she said, turning her hard, black eyes on Alexandra, ‘if you think you can waltz in here like an upstart and pull the wool over your grandmother’s eyes …’

  ‘That’s enough. Leave her alone, Tía,’ Ramón shot Eugenia a challenging look. ‘Alexandra’s come all the way from England to meet us, her family. What kind of a welcome is this? Can’t we, for once, at least give the illusion that we are a family?’

  ‘I’m under no illusions, my boy. But when have you ever wanted to be part of this family? You spend more time outside the hacienda than in it. Lord knows what you do or where you go. All I know is you’re never around when you’re needed.’

  ‘What am I needed for, Tía? To make this house even more miserable than it already is?’ His voice was quiet but his eyes loudly proclaimed his bitterness.

  ‘What’s this? First Esmeralda, and now you. Neither of you would have piped up with such talk before your cousin came to stay. El ruin pajarillo, descubra su nidillo, the wretched bird fouls its own nest.’

  Alexandra looked over at her father, bemused, wondering why he wasn’t putting an end to this stream of relentless spite. Don Alonso caught her eye and, as if guilt had stirred him out of his apathetic silence, turned to his wife.

  ‘Please my dear. Is all this unpleasantness really necessary? Ramón is right, we’re hardly behaving like a family.’

  ‘And what kind of family would you have us be, Alonso? Like an English one?’ Doña Eugenia’s expression changed from one of haughty distain to something nastier. ‘Perhaps you’d prefer it if I were like your English wife? At least a Spanish wife stays to raise her child herself and doesn’t make a fool of her husband—’

  ‘Eugenia!’ Alonso, finally jolted out of his lethargy, roared at his wife.

  What Don Alonso may or may not have said at this point was not to be heard, however, as everyone became suddenly aware of the Duquesa, who stood glowering in the doorway.

  Doña Eugenia’s eyes rounded and alarm flashed across her face. ‘Mamá, we did not expect you for dinner. We thought you were staying in your room tonight,’ she uttered, half rising from her chair.

  ‘Sit down, Eugenia, and tell me how I could possibly be expected to stay in my room with all this commotion going on under my roof. What is the meaning of this unearthly noise? I could hear you halfway down the corridor.’

  ‘Sor
ry you’ve been disturbed, Mamá,’ said Don Alonso, regaining his composure. ‘There was just a little … misunderstanding …’ He gave an apologetic wave of his hand.

  ‘Misunderstanding?’ The Duquesa lifted an enquiring eyebrow, her slate-grey eyes fixed upon her son with a freezing stare.

  ‘Grandmother, had I realized my acceptance of your gift would cause such trouble, I would have insisted you kept it,’ interjected Alexandra, looking anxiously at the matriarch who stood there motionless, like the statue of wrath.

  ‘And I would have tolerated no such thing,’ the Duquesa said in a low voice, but her tone was fierce.

  ‘But if they were intended for Mercedes …’

  Doña Eugenia looked uncomfortable. ‘I was only explaining that there may have been a misunderstanding about the Gulinar jewels. You might have lent them to Alexandra for this special occasion …’

  The Duquesa’s gaze now fell frostily on her daughter-in-law. ‘No explanations are needed, Eugenia. There is no misunderstanding. The Princess Gulinar jewels are mine to give to whomever I please.’

  ‘But, Mamá, Mercedes …’ Doña Eugenia began to object.

  ‘Mercedes has nothing to do with it. I will not have my decision questioned on this matter and that is all I have to say.’ The Duquesa’s stare swept over her small audience before she sailed out.

  The atmosphere pulsed in the room for several moments after Doña María Dolores had gone. Dinner was now served in complete silence. Doña Eugenia pursed her lips and Mercedes, though wide-eyed with indignation, knew better than to speak. Instead, she went into a pouting sulk and was motioned by her mother to finish up her paella before it became cold.

  ‘Well, that seems to have settled things,’ said Ramón sardonically, ignoring Doña Eugenia’s glare. ‘Perhaps we can continue to eat now. All this excitement has made me ravenous.’ He sent Alexandra a reassuring wink as he passed the bread but her appetite had vanished.

  So this is the family I have been curious about for so long, Alexandra thought gloomily. She could swallow neither another mouthful of food nor her desperate disappointment. How different was the reality compared to her wistful imaginings. She realized now how deep-seated her longing for a family had been: the father she could have relied upon, the companionship of a sister she might have confided in, even a stepmother who might have come to love her as her own. The reality of this woman’s contempt, and the other girl’s antipathy towards her, felt utterly horrendous.

  She thought back to the Duquesa’s disparaging remark at breakfast that morning about Lola, Ramón’s mother. Having seen first-hand the autocratic way her grandmother treated her family, she could now understand why her mother had felt so oppressed. She could imagine exactly how her grandmother must have been cold to Vanessa, regardless of the Duquesa’s current warmth towards her granddaughter. Undercurrents of animosity that rippled through the family were undeniable. Aunt Geraldine may have been right after all: it was pure folly to have come to Spain.

  Alexandra retreated into her own world for a while, grateful to be ignored, even though Ramón sporadically tried to engage her in conversation.

  For the rest of dinner, no further mention was made of Princess Gulinar’s jewels. The conversation presently moved on to a new subject. Apparently, the condition of Marujita’s sick child was worsening by the day. That name again. It had cropped up that morning at breakfast. Alexandra wondered who Marujita was and why everyone was so concerned about the young woman and her offspring. She must be some close friend of the family, she guessed.

  As she had barely spoken a word since the Duquesa left, nobody paid much attention to Alexandra. Even Ramón seemed to forget she was there, not bothering to fill her in on the background to this new piece of gossip, though he too said little, perhaps reluctant to stumble into another altercation with his aunt. For her part, Alexandra was only half listening to the conversation, too preoccupied by the unsavoury argument at the start of dinner.

  She foresaw that her stay at El Pavón would probably not be without similar incident, and wondered if it would be preferable to return to London before any further unpleasantness occurred. The old woman on the train had sown a seed of doubt about the family and now one certainty had taken root: Mercedes and Eugenia, each in her own way, would be difficult, to say the least. Still, she was not one to give up at the first obstacle; quite the reverse, she had always been up for a challenge. She had never hesitated to fight for her beliefs, or for whatever she needed. Had the issue taken place in the morning, before she had made better acquaintance with her grandmother, she would have had no hesitation: she would not have chosen to put up with such a suffocating and confrontational atmosphere. Except, the very ‘dragon’ that everybody feared had charmed her, and then stood up for her. An unfamiliar feeling was growing in her heart: a mixture of warmth and tenderness towards her grandmother, unknown to her until then.

  Alexandra was distracted by the sound of chairs being drawn back. Dinner was over. On her way to the door, Doña Eugenia continued her monologue for anyone who might care to listen.

  ‘Mamá ought to have been firmer right from the start and not let the situation reach this point. There’s nothing to prove that the girl is telling the truth and, even if she were, she wouldn’t be the first to find herself in such a position. This sort of thing is quite common among those people. Of course, she is very young. Still, if it had been up to me, the problem of this indiscretion would have been solved without all this fuss. A few gold coins slipped in the right direction and matters would’ve been settled. Salvador’s too soft.’

  Salvador’s name jerked Alexandra out of the haze of her own thoughts. What were they talking about now? And what did Salvador have to do with it? Whoever the girl was, another piece of intrigue seemed to be at work at El Pavón. A now familiar wave of uneasiness gripped Alexandra as she went pensively up to her room.

  CHAPTER 4

  Alexandra glimpsed Marujita for the first time on the day of the masked ball. It had been nearly a week since she’d arrived at the hacienda and she had taken to having a daily walk through the grounds. It was a relief to get away from the oppressive mood of the place when the family were around and often she went out with her notebook to scribble down ideas for her novel.

  Following her usual route along the avenue of sycamores, she reached the clearing where she’d stopped a couple of days before to admire the landscape. From the clearing, by chance, she turned into one of the narrow tracks, alongside the lemon orchard, that ran on from the shaded walk. Further on, the sunken path opened out into a secluded private garden.

  There, hidden away amidst a tumbling golden cascade of mimosa, was a single-storey cottage of white stone with turquoise shutters. The doorway was ajar and a birdcage hung outside the open window. To the left, some distance away, surrounded by pomegranate and lemon trees, was a fountain, its steady warbling the only sound to disturb the tranquillity of this enchanting retreat.

  Alexandra was peering at the cottage from behind a bushy shrub and did not see the girl immediately. She was sitting beside a basin, leaning over the edge, looking at her reflection in the mirrored surface. One of her hands was playing dreamily with the translucent water, letting it filter between her long, graceful fingers while with the other she stroked the big purring black cat that lay at her feet.

  ‘Marujita! Marujita! Where are you?’ called a voice from inside the house. A stout woman appeared at the door. ‘Ah, there you are! Siempre soñando, always daydreaming. Come and help me hang out the washing.’

  The girl turned. She drew herself up languidly, and reluctantly followed the matronly woman into the house, holding a bunch of Spanish jasmine under her nose as she did so. The black cat wagged its bushy tail and trailed after the young gitana, the girl carrying herself with a sensuality allied somehow with a fragile, almost adolescent grace. Alexandra had no doubt that for most men those looks, while unconventional, would be both bewitching and unforgettable. Marujita possesse
d a fiery beauty: long ebony hair, dusky, golden, satiny skin, a slightly aquiline nose and high cheekbones. Her jet-black, velvet eyes, beneath the smooth arc of perfect eyebrows, reflected a haughty arrogance matched by the provocative fullness of her lips.

  A vague, troubled feeling crept over Alexandra once more, almost a dark presentiment, which had been her frequent companion since she arrived in Spain. So this was the infamous Marujita. Something about the girl made Alexandra sense danger. What had she just stumbled on? Slowly, apprehensively, she went back the way she’d come.

  As she turned into the avenue of sycamores, the faint sound of voices made her stop in her tracks. This time, she heard a man in anger and the subdued, imploring tones of a youth. A shrill cry split the air. Without hesitation, Alexandra hurried towards the orchard on the other side of the pomegranate trees, from where the cry had come.

  She soon spotted them, at the base of one of the trees.

  ‘I think you filthy gitanos must enjoy being beaten. Do you think I don’t know what you’re always up to?’

  Fernando Lopez, the blond-headed steward Alexandra had disliked from the moment she had seen him on that first morning at El Pavón, was holding his victim by the ear, his face twisted in a cruel sneer. He was on the verge of striking the boy again with his fist when he saw Alexandra. Immediately he let go of the boy, who could not have been older than fourteen. Gritting her teeth, Alexandra approached the pair, making a determined effort to keep her temper. She bent down and placed a protective arm around the lad.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she hissed, finding it difficult to contain the outrage in her voice. ‘Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?’

  The steward’s eyes darkened. He attempted a smile but only managed a grimace.

  ‘You don’t understand, señorita,’ he said sharply. ‘These gypsies, they’re a cursed people, they bring bad luck and this one will only learn from a beating. I’d shop him to the authorities but unfortunately the Count and the Duquesa choose to protect this lot. It’s not the first time I’ve caught the dirty little ratero stealing and I—’